“I’d really like you to stay,” he said. “I know that’s a lot to ask. But I’d like to get to know you more.”
He’d had a long time to try to get to know me.
“Just tell me one thing,” I said. “You left the US at twenty and went back to your family. I get it.” I shrugged. I had sympathy for a boy who got a girl pregnant and had his family put pressure on him to cut her off. Not that I excused his behavior, but I kind of got it. “But you grew up, you took over the business, you got married, you had kids, your dad died. Somewhere in all that, you got agency over your life. And you still didn’t make things right.”
The waiters came to take our plates, top up our wine and water, and as they did, I could see the wheels turning in my father’s head.
When we were alone again, he said, “I hate myself for being so weak. I still do.”
He paused but wasn’t done.
“I’d pushed aside what I had done. When we lost contact, I wouldn’t allow myself to think about what had happened.”
It wasn’t nice what he was saying, but it was honest. I could see it in his eyes.
“I only allowed myself to think about you a few times. First when I hit twenty-five. Second, before I asked Evan to marry me. I’d told her about you. Obviously, I didn’t know if you were a boy or a girl, but I felt like I’d betrayed one woman—I didn’t want Evan to be the second.”
“Three women,” I said, pointing a finger at myself.
He nodded. “And then finally when Bella was born, I thought about . . . you, and what you were doing and . . . I thought you were probably better off without me.”
I swallowed. Better off without him maybe. But we could have done with his money. Still could do with his money.
“When you called, it felt like I was getting a second chance.”
If my mother could see me now, she’d call me disloyal. She’d swear at me in Italian and take to her bed. And not just because I was here talking to someone who’d made her life so difficult, but also because I could feel the ice around my heart weaken slightly. He just seemed so nice. Evan was lovely. Their kids were adorable. And what Des was saying made sense. It felt raw and true and heartbreaking.
I didn’t come here to like this guy. To understand him. I just wanted his money. I wanted him to pay his debts. If he turned out to be a nice guy who made a huge mistake, I wasn’t sure where that left me.
“This is a lot,” I said, setting my napkin down on the table and standing. “I need to . . . think.” The man in front of me was weak, but he was also human. I hadn’t been prepared for that. I’d been prepared for a monster. Someone I could manipulate and charm to get what I deserved. Now I wasn’t sure what I was doing sitting opposite him.
“Of course,” he said. “It is a lot. And I don’t want to burden you, but I want you to know the truth. It’s the least you deserve.”
The only problem was, I’d never wanted the truth. I’d never wanted a genuine connection with the man who was my father. I just wanted his money. Now I was being offered something more, I didn’t know what to do with it.
Eighteen
Andrew
I drummed my fingers on my desk like some kind of comic-book villain. How long was this going to take? It had been twenty-four hours since I’d submitted the offer to buy Verity, Inc. from Goode Publishing. If Bob had any sense at all, he’d snatch my hand off. He wasn’t going to get more than this. The magazine was the only business in his group not making money. Other publications that Goode had were subsidizing Verity. This was a clean way for Goode to get rid of a loss-making business and collect some cash at the same time. I didn’t understand why I hadn’t had a call within ten minutes of my offer landing on his desk.
I stood and pushed my hands into my pockets. Maybe Sofia had been away from her desk when the call had come through. I strode across my office and snatched open the door, half expecting to see an empty chair.
“I haven’t heard a word,” she replied, without even turning around.
“Have you gone to make coffee or to the loo or—”
“I’ve left my desk twice this morning to go to the restroom but I had Douglas wait by the phone while I was gone. I haven’t missed anything.”
I fisted my hands and went back into my office, closed the door, and leaned back on it. Like it or not, Sofia was a pretty good assistant. And she knew how bloody important this offer was to me. She’d even diverted her phone when she left last night. I knew there was no point. Bob wasn’t going to respond immediately.
Maybe I’d call his lawyer if I hadn’t heard anything by close of business.
The terse ring of Sofia’s phone was piercingly loud from the other side of the door. My heart thundered in my chest and I sprinted back to my desk to pick up the call if she transferred it through.
Sure enough, just as I sat, my desk phone rang.
I picked it up.
“It’s Goode’s lawyers. Shall I put them through?”
“Yes,” I said, pulling my shoulders back. This was it. The fish was biting.
“Andrew? It’s Charles Whithorn.” I’d come across Charles a couple of times in my career. He seemed like a decent enough guy.
“How can I help?” As if I didn’t know. He’d called to open negotiations. I wasn’t expecting Goode to agree to my terms immediately. But if he came to the table, I knew I could close the deal. And here he was, pulling out the chair.
“It’s about this offer on Verity. Bob has asked me to call but honestly, I don’t know why. He’s asked me to tell you that Verity, Inc. isn’t for sale.”
My stomach swooped in my mouth. I must have misheard. “What do you mean it’s not for sale? If he doesn’t like my offer, let’s talk.”
“Yes. I suggested we come back to you with some kind of counteroffer—a markup of the heads—but he’s not interested. Just kept telling me it wasn’t for sale.”
He must have got this wrong. There was no way the business wasn’t for sale. It was loss making and had no strategic direction. It was a disaster. Of course it was for sale. Realistically, they should be pleased to give it away. I’d offered the cash as well as taking on fifty percent of the debt.
“Have you seen the numbers, Charles? Verity is not in good shape. I made a good offer.”
“I know,” he replied. “I don’t think the number is important. He just doesn’t want to sell it.”
I searched my brain for reasons why he wouldn’t want to sell. “Is he trying to sell Goode Publishing in its entirety?”
“Not as far as I’m aware, and I tend to see most of what passes across his desk, even if he’s not interested.”
“Does he have a plan or a new investor or something?”
“I really don’t know. Last conversation I had with him about the business, he talked about the importance of profits. I have no idea why he’s not interested in your offer.”
“You didn’t ask him?” What kind of lawyer was this guy if he wasn’t advising his client correctly?
“I did. He wouldn’t tell me. But you guys have a history, don’t you? Why don’t you ask him?”